"elmers" poems
It is so much fun making things.
Cutting construction paper,
and printing pictures from the computer,
and making solar system posters,
with colorful comets, and nebulas.
But without my good friend Elmers glue
I don't know what I would do.
Just a dot, and spread it around,
and you can stick Ganymede next to Jupiter,
and make all kinds of cool collages.
You can make little game pieces,
and play galaxy battles with grandpa,
but without Elmers glue
everything would fall apart,
and all the papers would seperate,
and nothing would work!
That's why I love Elmers glue.
Its like love,
because it fixes little broken plastic hearts,
and keeps beautiful pictures, and strong paper together,
so that you can make beautiful and strong things,
which is what love is.
So you can sort of say
that Elmers glue, kind of
is love.
Which is why I love it!
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
After piece by arcane piece is discarded
vulnerability divulging flaws and vindication with neon lights
incision at the fingertips
lies exposed where every finger nail is dislodged
peel back the once forgiving flesh
revealing the standard beauty for its depth
don't suppose those lines in my face
(the conniving spots
where make-up bleeds,
forgotten lies breed,
and fear have taken occupancy)
those lines don't really matter once you remove the mask
Underneath, muscle and connections vibrate
the drive
Red, raw, ugly and most important - authentic
A monster's face, the one that parallels
everyone else's
Tear away at it, pluck each strand of tissue
Play me a lullaby to sooth the screaming
Dust your fingers on the structure of my bones
carve your initials into the white
lay claim to your work, your art
slide any remaining pieces away into the abyss of trash
with the newspaper clippings and elmers glue
bleach away the remaining red
and finger paint your new canvas
A pristine prototype so rudiment
The birth of cool
and for the free
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
I am experienced in empathy.
Not comfort,
For I can easily feel when hugs and tender words will do no good.
They hurt the broken people, don't they?
Make them only more aware of how they should be.
Not sympathy, or pity,
Those burn their victims like acid
Spoon-fed in the guise of tonic
In the semblance of medication.
No, what I am good at is empathy.
I feel
What they feel.
Touch it with my fingertips and learn it like braille.
Like I am blind, reaching out to them.
No matter how close I get, it never impales me like it does them.
I am the watcher without eyes.
But I feel it, understand it, read it,
And so I know
Not what to do or say, really.
Just what not to.
It is a skill that people seem to fly towards and huddle around.
I think not a lot of people must take the time to understand
Pain
When they see it's there.
They barge in with their little toy tools
Plastic hammers and screws,
Elmers glue,
And fix it all with sloppy gobs of paste.
And at the end, looking at their handiwork,
Sagging to one side,
Simply propped up like it will stay stable,
Smile,
Sigh with the satisfaction
Of a job done,
If not well,
And brush their palms together
As if to say,
"Well, that takes care of that."
And whistle merrily on their way,
Even as the poor person they fixed
Must now wash the gaudy decor
From their jagged edges
And start again from the bottom up.
The real truth is that you can't glue a person back together.
You can only tell them that
They are still art
Even though they are no longer
As they once were.
Empathy takes restraint.
Takes patience.
Takes practice.
It is the art of feeling what another feels,
And still acknowledging that you do not fully understand.
It is the subtlety of looking at another person
And never telling but always showing
That they are themselves strong enough
To heal.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
my whole world has come crashing around me-
since you left-like a kindergardener running out of elmers glue,
i cant hold myself together,
you've left me to fix a broken peice of work
(you used to think it was a masterpeice)
the love you confessed seemed so sureal
now i dont think it was so,
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 6:43 PM UTC
I force myself
To endoure the treck to my past,
The source of why
I don't leave
My vacant cave at night.
Every now and then,
I scavenge this place
We called our playground
Looking, searching
For last batch of complements
To motivate my ego
To treck these tragic events
That partook in this place.
Every streetlight
That pierces the night
Reminds me of the new fashion trend
I picked up called loneliness.
I wish I could take
This coat of depression off of me.
No how many times
I can't shake the feeling
It sticks on me like the Elmers glue
That I stuck to my hands in preschool.
I wish this conflict would subside
Through the silence.
All I can do now
Is climb this familiar path,
Draped over the clouds
Where I can't see my future for
Miles, miles,miles.
Just being stuck in the crevice
That wispers in the wind,
"I'm not as magnificent
As you thought I was"
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
****** needed some remedials.
A b sees and one two threes.
Some tables and basics
Lasix...for a swollen ego.
We go.
We went
We gone.
A wash and wrinse... a manipedi. Exfoliate.
Real .
Uncluttered.
To the quick.
Too many lifetimes posing
A heart that forgot
The forget me nots.
Too many summer in the blazing sun
Many bone chilled winters.
Howling storms became the norm
Sooo.Gold stars and paper cuts
Elmers glue to start anew
Baby.
Kids need cookies and milk.
Hearts need to be gentle as spun silk.
Open like Dr Sues and simple.
Like popping your first
Pimple.
Simple.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
What'll be done after our fun in the sun
When it's all done and the reaper has won
What'll we do when we've all lost our hue
When we're as pale, as stale as old elmers glue
What'll we see when it all comes to be
When the devil and his other both do agree
That the earth and it's life can no longer be
That life has been corrupted, as far as they can see
What'll be done when they both come down hard
When they leave naught but a single shard
A sliver, a slice, a single piece of ice
And in that ice lies dormant some life
Life that'll come and thrive once again
Life that'll come and try to amend
The sins and the deeds that humans have done
When they once lived with fun in the sun
The life will evolve and problems it'll solve
Making new art with blue, green, and mauve
Figuring out the world and making rules once more
Becoming corrupted just like the life before
Thinking they're great and losing their way
And writing crazy poems that say
"What'll be done after our fun in the sun
When it's all done and the reaper has won
What'll we do when we've all lost our hue
When we're as pale, as stale as old elmers glue
What'll we see when it all comes to be
When the devil and his other both do agree
That the earth and it's life can no longer be
That life has been corrupted, as far as they can see."
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 5:42 PM UTC
The day started as many do
I ran up the hill of the grounds
I'd lept from bed, in fear and dread
that I would be late to the Downs
We had so many horses then
thirty one as I now recall
Only two men, to jog back then
rushed to finish before the squall
We had eight horses in that night
each hurried to finish in time
We'd bathed them all, cleaned each ones stall
life was hard back then in my prime
The rain was roiling from the west
black clouds had portended a storm
All were ready, stout and steady
for us this was just the norm
On that night between the races
I spoke with an old friend of mine
he the toughest, and the roughest
of all the horsemen you could find
His dad named him Elmer Conrad
he was a product of the old school
At eighty four, or maybe more
this young man thought he was so cool
As the oldest racing driver
I must admit he held great sway
In him I'd found, a lonesome sound
as he'd outlived all from his day
One night Elmer had caused a wreck
his temper puffed a powder keg
There on the ground, a cracking sound
he lay picking bones from his leg
But this night he drove his rig home
it was late and the roads were wet
He'd had bad luck, and wrecked the truck
I'm sure he blew it off, "no sweat"
That was the last I saw of him
his child thought him too old to drive
With no great ease, took Elmers keys
and with that his desire to thrive
Elmer hung himself in the barn
beside the home his father built
I wonder now, if it somehow
had left his child bereft of guilt
Next day I heard my hero died
where-bye we'd lost a man so great
Scrawled on a note, that he had wrote
"I am the Master of my Fate"
He treated me as if his own
and for that I honor him too
By eighty four, he had done more
than any man I had ever knew
He was the last great gentleman
I had known of four and four score
There died our best, eternal rest
they don't make those men anymore
Tate
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
I collect feathers in all kinds of weather
I find lying about on the ground
Not sure if you've seen but I'm building get away wings
Where one day I'll pick up and fly South
Spending time on the beach, far out of reach
From the hustle and bustle of life
That today's society has forced on me
Time after time after time
I'll use Elmers glue to stick feathers to
A frame that I'll strap to my back
Then with a running start on that day I'll depart
Never once looking back
Taking time out for me as I'm flying free
On this, my latest endeavor
Doing my best to keep, this side of sanity
From one end of this life to another
Oh look, there's another feather...
Oct 26, 2023
Oct 26, 2023 at 12:08 PM UTC
gonna go into the animal treat business.
Ever taste the **** they sell?
Tastes like PlayDoh mixed with blah!
I am gonna buy a heap of
flour and paste, the white Elmers's stuff
some forms to mix it into
the shape of a bigdog *****
I mean bone,
season it with chicken broth and mix it with Ramen noodles
hey they cheap, I have lived months on them for twenty dollars
and I know a hungry animal
would like them better than the t-bone treats I bought
that tasted like cardboard
and paper , they did look
good, though, and only a dollar?
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
when I was younger i fell in a cactus
i had spikes up to my toes and in my ears
i covered myself in glue to get them all out
when im lonely i find myself doing the same
falling in loops
and waking up with your hand on my back
cut, copy & paste all over my body
why is this how it tastes
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
Ow my legs are going numb.
Internal hemorrhage got me Gooooood this time.
Help I'm dying from blood loss.
I walked into a train yesterday.
It's name was joe and it had AIDS.
I was high on elmers glue.
N;ow im high on Rosetta stone.
Does that make me a Rosetta stoner?
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC